November 26: Very Cold, First Winter Snowstorm, Wampa

Five figures wandered slowly over the blighted land.  Bits of it were dullish gray, bits of it dullish brown, the rest of it rather less interesting to look at.  It was like a dried-out marsh, now barren of all vegetation and covered with a layer of dust about an inch thick.  It was very cold.

That is Douglas Adams' description of the surface of the planet Magrathea near the end of Hitchhiker's.  If you add some snow to that, maybe the whine of snowmobiles in the distance, you would also have a perfect description of winter in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Sitting at my kitchen table right now, in between getting home and going to bed.  I am bracing for the first major storm of winter to hit my little neck of the U.P. tonight into tomorrow.  I've heard predictions of anywhere between eight to 24 inches of snow.  Regardless of how much falls, it's going to pretty much suck for getting to work tomorrow morning.

The first storm of winter always fills me with dread.  I dislike having to brave U. P. roads and highways at 5:30 in the morning.  I'm a good winter driver, but plowing through snowdrifts that early in my Subaru is a little nerve-wracking.  I've gotten stuck on more than one occasion.  A few winters ago, I was driving in a blizzard, hit a whiteout, and ended up on the opposite side of the highway, saved by some guardrails from driving into a lake. 

Of course, being a Yooper, I'm supposed to love winter.  Cross country skiing.  Downhill skiing.  Sledding.  Snowshoeing.  Snowmobiling.  If I had more testosterone in my system, I'd probably be into all of those things.  Instead, when I have free time, I sit down and write or read or sleep.  (As you know, I don't get much free time.)  My outdoor exercise is shoveling during the winter.  A lot.  I don't own skis or snowshoes, and I haven't been on a snowmobile in about 20 years. 

My eleven-year-old son is ecstatic over the possibility of having school called off because of snow.  I used to love winter storms for the very same reason, but that love sort of died when I became an adult and had to actually move all the snow that fell.  Now, the prospect of any kind of wintry precipitation makes my body ache preemptively.  I have to be at work whether it's 90 degrees or -25 degrees, raining or sleeting or snowing, tornado or blizzard.  I've pretty much driven through all of those conditions, I think.

I broke down a few years ago and found a guy to plow for me.  I just couldn't face getting up two hours early to shovel BEFORE I had to drive into work, and then coming home and having to shovel again AFTER I'd worked for ten or 11 hours.  Thus, winter storms have also become really expensive.  Another reason why my love of snow has diminished considerably.

So, this is my annual beginning-of-winter rant.  Expect a few more posts like this as the white stuff accumulates enough to cover my kitchen windows.  From about the beginning of January until around the middle of March this past year, I felt as though I was living on the ice planet Hoth.  (For non-Star Wars fans, look it up.)  I think, at one point last February, I actually saw a Wampa trudge through my backyard.  (Again, non-Star Wars fans, do your homework.)

Tomorrow night at this time, I will more than likely be living in the middle of a Christmas snow globe.  And I will try to be happy about it.  My other option is hating my life for the next six months.  Hmmm, snow globe or self-loathing. . .

Saint Marty will sleep on it.